


But You Know What They Say About Me

by Jamie_Soames



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2460644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamie_Soames/pseuds/Jamie_Soames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Formerly titled: Our Girl in Symkaria</p><p>Steve told Natasha he’d call her, but didn’t. For reasons such as her leaving the apartment SHIELD put her up in the day after Fury was shot, and because he didn’t particularly want to.</p><p>And so the next time Steve saw Sharon again, it was in a Symkaria nightclub, with well-armed people all around them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve told Natasha he’d call her, but didn’t. For reasons such as her leaving the apartment SHIELD put her up in the day after Fury was shot, and because he didn’t particularly want to.  
  
And so the next time Steve saw Sharon again, it was in a Symkaria nightclub, with well-armed people all around them.  
  
There were Steve and Sam, who stood with his back to Steve’s, training a carbine at a group of Romanian gangsters. Sharon’s friend, a woman Steve recognized as ex-SHIELD, had a gun aimed at Cristu, who owned the club and currently knelt on the dancefloor, while Sharon herself held-up another group of gangsters with a sawn-off.  
  
The last of the dancers, staff and patrons scrambled out the exists, their panicked shouts fading in their wake, and the air stilled with tension.  
  
Steve didn’t know what ex-SHIELD personnel were doing in Symkaria or what they wanted with Cristu, but he could guess. He knew that plenty of non-HYDRA-ex-SHILED had gone off to work in the private sector, often as security consultants, but sometimes as mercs, and he knew that Cristu was a nasty piece of work. Trouble was that he was also a contact pointed to by a friend of a friend of Natasha’s as someone who could lead them to Bucky.  
  
With Romanian gangsters surrounding him on one end, and ex-SHIELD mercs standing between him and Cristu on the other, a way to defuse the situation had to be found, but Steve’s attempts to appeal to calmness was met with angry shouts in Romanian.  
  
Sam tried to respond in his stead, but his stint in the Balkans had been long ago and his language skills were out of practice. Sharon’s partner was more fluent, but she didn’t sound much like she was appealing to calm.  
  
Having no idea what was being said, but having a pretty good idea where it was headed, Steve scanned his surroundings, and scanned Sharon while he was at it. She stared at him in the eye, and he knew she was going to kick it off herself.  
  
Steve generally preferred a stealthy ambush, a flanking maneuver, or even a frontal assault when all else failed, but never to be in the middle of a circle of fire, certainly not without his shield. But it really couldn’t be helped.  
  
The gunfight saw three Romanians go down in the opening salvo, and Sam taking a round in the body armor. They scramble for cover and the rest of the fight takes thirty seconds before the final shot rings out and Steve discovers that Sharon, her partner and Cristu are gone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

A couple of weeks later, he was in Stockholm on his own, looking into a slim lead that didn’t pan out. Before his flight back, at the airport, he caught a glimpse of wavy black locks in the distance, the woman who’d held a gun to Cristu’s head. He went looking for her, finding her partner instead twenty minutes later, sitting at a table in the cafe of the departure lounge.

He walked up to her table, where she’d been preoccupied by her phone, and said,

 “Agent Carter…”

She looked up at him impassively and said nothing for a moment.

 “Neighbor. ”

She grinned, and followed,

“Glad to see you’re looking fine.”  
 “What did you do with Cristu Bulat?”

Sharon tilted her head in pretense of contemplation

“Sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Steve took a deep breath, already frustrated by months of zero progress and finding himself especially irritable.

“Look, I’m really not-”  
“Alright, fine.” Sharon cut him off, nudging the opposite chair under the table with her boot.

“If we’re going to do this, you might as well take a seat.”

Steve fixed her with a sharp stare, but relented and took a seat.

“Why does Captain America want with a piece of work like Cristu Bulat?”  
“He has information I want.”  
“Regarding?”

Steve remained silent.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s not gonna be speaking to either of us, I’m sorry to say.”

She took a sip of her coffee as a waiter came over and asked if Steve wanted anything.

“Nothing, thank you.”  
“How about a Chamomile tea?” Sharon asked, “I’ll buy.”  
“Nothing. Thank you.” Steve said, and the waiter shuffled off.

“Who were you working for?” Steve asked once the waiter was out of earshot.  
 “I freelance.” Sharon said as she set her cup down.

“Bulat was scum and he had done a lot of shit, but he’s no major player. Whatever you wanted to know, you can start looking again somewhere else. Maybe I could help, if you’d tell me what it is.”  
“I don’t think I can afford you.”  
“That’s fine, I could do it as a favor. And someday, and that day may never come come, I'll call upon you to do a favor for me. But until that day, you can accept my help as a gift on my daughter's wedding day.”

She chuckled to herself as Steve stared blankly.

“It’s from a movie.”  
“I saw it. Didn’t like it.”  
“You didn’t like The Godfather?”  
“I knew mobsters growing up. They had no honor.”  
“Huh.” Sharon sounded, “Someone who doesn’t like The Godfather. Alright, fine, I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

Steve quieted for a moment as Sharon finished the last of her coffee.

“I think I’ll pass.”

Sharon titled her head downward.

“You don’t trust me.”  
“I don’t trust spies.”  
“Technically, I’m not a spy anymore.”  
“You’re a mercenary. That’s hardly better.”  
“Well, what else is there to do when someone dismantles your job.”  
“SHILED had to go.”  
“No doubt.” Sharon said, her stare getting sharp for a moment, “I just caught a lucky break that my file didn’t leak along with all my friends.”  
“Well, I hope you find something better.”

She fixed him with a hard appraising look.

“Wait, are you seriously still sore about-”  
“Yeah,” Steve interrupted, “I kind of am.”

She sighed, and lowered her gaze.

“Well, if looking for an apology…” she said, and looked up, “You can keep dreaming. I was doing my job.”  
“You were spying on me!”  
“I was _protecting_ you.”  
 “Suuure you were.”

She leaned back in her chair, arms folding and legs crossing.

“Hey, do you find yourself laying on a slab in an AIM lab?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“What?”

Sharon rolled her eyes.

“Fuck it.” She said as she got up and left, “Good luck finding whatever it is you’re after.”

She didn’t carry any luggage, just the clothes on her back and her passport and ticket in her hand. Noticing the airline, and on a whim taking a look at the departures an hour later, he learned she was leaving for Budapest. He would feel a pang of guilt, wondering if his tone was truly warranted.

But at the moment, he just felt doubly annoyed that Sharon had stuck him with her check.


	3. Chapter 3

There was an e-mail account that Steve had, he’d never used it for anything and received nothing but junk. He made a habit of logging into it at odd intervals, never from anywhere that could be tracked to him, and taking a look in the draft box. Sometimes, he’d get a message from the only other person who knew of the account, and other times he’d get a place and a time.

At a bar on a not crowded night, Steve passed the time by drinking beers at a slow pace. Eventually, the phone rang. The bartender picked up, listened briefly, and then asked aloud if there was a _Grant Gardner_ in there.

“That’s me.” Steve said, waving his hand as he made his way over.

 “Hello?” he spoke as the bartender left him to his call.

“Cristu Bulat is in Albanian custody.” Came Fury’s voice on the other side. Elsewhere in the world, he was manning an advanced comms setup. If someone knew to listening, all they'd get was a lot of chop, and by the time the call ended, there would be no record of it ever taking place

"His real name, it turns out, is Tiberiu Bulat. He’s been wanted for crimes during the Balkan wars. He was turned in by independent contractors, allegedly."  
"War crimes?"  
"Sometimes, we don’t get complete intel," Fury said, "These days more than others. Don't think Natasha wouldn't be feeling what you are, either."

It wasn't often that he sounded defensive, so Steve decided to let it slide.

“You said allegedly?”  
"Even with shoestring resources, Carter'd need no more than eight, maybe nine days to hand him over."  
"And?"  
"Bulat's been with the Albanians for five days at the most. That's at least three days unaccounted for."

Fury paused.

"And there's been a surge in US-Albanian cooperation."  
"Okay?" Steve said after a moment.  
"There's a rumor that comes and goes of a CIA program. _Operation Adagio_ , is the name I heard. They've been recruiting ex-SHIELD and using them for deniable ops.

"Bulat has been up to a lot of shit over the years. Aside from currying favor with the Albanians, might be that Company wanted him for reasons of their own. Keep that in mind if you meet her again."  


 

 

It was months until Steve encountered Sharon again. This time, it was in Istanbul.

He had Sam with him again, and they'd stopped at a café. Steve was gone to the restroom for a couple of minutes, and when he came back, Sharon and her friend were sitting at their table, cool as they could be, while Sam wore an expression of supreme bewilderment that would be amusing if it were for any other reason than the intrusion.

 “They, uh,” Sam mumbled, “Kind of just sat down here on their own.”  
“Hey.” Sharon said, nodding her head at her friend, “This is Ali.”  
“Hi.” Ali said with a small smile.  
“Hello.” Steve said cautiously as he sat down.

His experience with SHIELD had turned him off spies, his indispensable association with Fury notwithstanding. Sam had his own history with the Agency through SOCOM, he said his dealings were a mixed bag, and that the best policy was giving them a wide berth.

All the same, there they were. For a time, they sat around the table in tense silence as they were surrounded by other patron's chatter and the contralto singing of some beloved local singing icon on a the sound system.

“Funny how we keep running into each other, isn’t it?” Sharon eventually said.  
“Three time in less than five months.” Steve replied, “Hilarious.”  
“Small world." Sharon said with a shrug before she turned to Sam.

"How have you been doing, Wilson?"  
"Oh, you know." Sam said uncomfortably, “Good.”  
“How’s work?” Sharon asked, then turned to Ali, “Sam works at the VA.”  
“Oh, yeah?” Ali asked.  
“Work’s been fine.” Sam said and cleared his throat, “Been taking a break, working part-time.”  
“Yourself?” Steve asked.  
“Not bad. Going places, seeing people.” Ali replied, “Getting paid. Is there a lot of money in the VA, and in…. What _do_ you do for money, Captain?”

“Why are you here?” Steve asked. He hadn’t raised his voice, but his tone was clear.  
“We’re on a job.” Ali said, “Lot of money in it.”  
“The problem with jobs that pay you a lot of money is that the more it is the more you’ll need to earn it. And it _is_ a lot of money. It’s still a lot of money split four ways instead of two.

“We saw you and thought; hey, kismet. We were after the same thing in Symkaria. Maybe we’re after the same thing again.”  
“Symkaria was kind of a mess.” Sam said.  
“True. It was fucked up.”  
“This time, we could pool our resources.” Said Ali, “Ever heard of Myral-”  
“We’re not interested.” Steve said firmly

Sharon frowned.

“Not interested because you’re not after Eloise Myral or in general?”  
“The answer is a definite no.”

Sharon and Ali looked to each other, and smirked.

“Your loss.” Said Ali as she got up, followed by Sharon.

“Shame.” Said Sharon as she reached into her pocket, “I didn’t pay for my coffee in Stockholm, did I? Slipped my mind.”

She pulled out a crumpled bill that she tossed onto the table.

“I’ll see you later.” She said, “That’s a nice shirt, Wilson.”  
“Thanks.” Said Sam as he watched the pair walk away and disappear. He reached for the bill and unfurled it.

“You know, I didn’t want anything to do with them, either. But that was – Shit.”  
“What?”

Sam and passed him the bill. It was ten euro note, and had a large red star drawn and filled in red pen.

Realization dawned on him as quickly as it had on Sam, Steve sprang and waded through the crowded café and into the street, briefly sprinting in one direction before stopping and looking all around for a sign of either Ali or Sharon. He found none.


End file.
